Fifty Shades of Granger
by RainThestral93
Summary: Unlike his younger brother, Ron, who has the "emotional range of a teaspoon", Fred Weasley has the uncanny ability to provoke every emotion possible from our favourite Gryffindor bookworm. From late nights happily spent in the Common Room together to furious rants about his product testing on first years, Fred Weasley gets to Hermione. But what will become of it?
1. Absorbed

**A/N: **This is a little Fic idea I thought up whilst half asleep last night. It's not really planned out - all I know is it explores the potential relationship between Hermione and Fred over the course of a year or so at Hogwarts. The chapter names will be emotions/adjectives to describe Hermione's state of being. E.g. in this chapter she's _absorbed_ in her essay... make sense? Any requests for emotions, let me know. In case you couldn't tell from the title, there'll be fifty of these chapters, and then the fic will conclude. Read & review, please! - Beth :) xx

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**Absorbed**

Hermione sighed to herself as she rubbed her forehead. Three 'o' clock in the morning, and she was barely making headway with her ancient runes essay – it wasn't due in for a further two weeks, yet Hermione being Hermione was eager to check it off her insubordinately large list of homework assignments.

So caught up in her translation, she didn't notice footsteps on the stairs, as a sleepy Fred Weasley made his way into the common room. Picking up a book, marked halfway through with what seemed to be a sock – no wonder the house elves hadn't moved it – Fred Weasley absorbed himself in the pages of his novel, still not having noticed the brunette scribbling by the hearth.

The etching of a quill scratching against parchment nagged at Fred's mind. He couldn't seem to concentrate, he found, as he found his eyes scanning over the same sentence time after time again. He looked up; searching for the source of the noise, and his eyes fell upon a familiar bushy haired witch.

"Hermione?" He asked, his voice laced with sleep that was clearly refusing to come, judging by his presence in the Common Room late at night. She didn't look up, she continued frantically jotting runes down onto a sheaf of cream coloured paper. Fred tried again to capture the Gryffindor's attention, but to no avail.

He stood up and made his way over to the leather armchair, where she was sat, spieling off letters and numbers at an alarming rate. He touched her gently on the shoulder, and she jumped about fifty feet in the air. Ok, so maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration. He clapped a hand over her mouth to prevent her from crying out – the last thing he wanted to do was wake the entirety of Gryffindor tower.

"Fred!" Hermione hissed, annoyed, "Don't creep up on people like that – you've made me smudge my essay!" She huffed, and a small smile couldn't help but tug at the corner of Fred Weasley's mouth. She always was funny when she was angry; she had this wicked glint in her eyes. A glint that couldn't help but make Fred Weasley nervous. He licked his lips.

"I said your name twice, 'Mione," Fred told her somewhat smugly, "But you were too absorbed in that bliddy essay of yours to even notice. You _are_aware it's half three, right?"

"Of course," she responded snidely, frantically trying to get rid of the ink smear Fred's jolt had left on her work.

"Don't you _ever_stop working?" Asked an amazed Fred, secretly impressed at the bookworm's dedication to her studies.

"Of course I do," she sniffed. "I just got a little absorbed in this Ancient Runes essay, and I wanted to finish it before bed, that's all."

"Oh. Well don't you think you ought to go to bed, now?"

"Wise words from a fellow student out of bed past curfew," Hermione remarked pointedly, a small smile playing on her face.

"Touché," Grinned Fred.

Hermione didn't respond straight away, she was too absorbed counting the freckles spattered across his nose. He was at such close proximity she could clearly see the shape and outline of every single one. So absorbed in her counting, Hermione didn't notice as a wave of sleepiness consumed her, and her eyelids fluttered shut.

Fred chuckled to himself, as he sat and watched her laboured breathing; her chest rising, then falling, rising, then falling again. She was peaceful whilst she slept, he noticed, and the frown that was sometimes etched onto her forehead as she briskly marched down the corridors, half the Hogwarts library in her bag, slipped away. Her mouth was open slightly, lips parted, and Fred found himself with the strange desire to kiss the slumbering girl.

Shaking himself, and reckoning that sleep deprivation was getting the better of him, Fred scooped the petite girl gingerly in his arms, and carried her up the stairs to the girls dormitory, careful to utter the incantation that his twin and he had been using for years to get into the opposite gender's dormitories.

He slipped quietly into the room, placing her down lightly in the only empty four poster – the one he assumed to be hers – and drew the curtains around the slumbering Gryffindor. He tiptoed silently out of the dormitory, closing the heavy wooden door behind him as he made his own way to bed.

Lavendar Brown, one of the most noteworthy Hogwarts gossips, watched with wide eyes as he had deposited the sleeping girl her bed. What on earth was with that, Fred Weasley tucking Hermione Granger into bed? Lavendar drifted back off, eager to share her musings with the Patil twins the following day. Only_ then_Hermione Jean Granger would get a royal interrogation.


	2. Confused

**A/N: **Sad as it is, my Summer is very much drawing to a close. I go back to school the day after tomorrow, which means I won't be updating any of my Fics until after Thursday *cries* All I ask is that you bear with me and my probably slower updates - that's what this little thing called school does *sighs*. Still, looking forward to Y11 - after this, finally get to drop Maths which is good. Eugh. Numbers. As you can tell, I'm a word person. As always, reviews are lovely - Beth :) xx

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**Confused**

Hermione woke up after an extremely satisfying night's sleep, delighted to find she didn't have a cricked neck – something she usually suffered from as a result of carrying half the Hogwarts' library around with her every day in order to satisfy her reading habit. Dressing sleepily, she pulled on her robes, slipped her books for the day into her satchel, and made her way out of the corridor as she slung it over her shoulder, wincing at the weight of all the books.

The Great Hall was relatively busy, which meant that it was quite late in the morning – and that Hermione had been afforded a much needed lie in. Hermione noticed a few dirty looks that some of the younger Gryffindors and a few younger students threw in her direction as she walked to her usual spot at the table; and after looking around to find another subject for their glances – perhaps a particularly vindictive Slytherin? Hermione realised they were staring at _her_, and self-consciously checked her hair for anything that could have got stuck in it; smoothed down her skirt to make sure it wasn't any shorter than regulation, or caught up in her underwear, and she risked a brief glance down at her shoes to make sure there wasn't a bit of toilet paper trailing behind her. Unable to find anything offensive, the bookworm shrugged, sitting down as she assumed that there was simply a large amount of PMS-ing younger students that particular morning.

Hermione was chewing her cornflakes, not even looking down at her bowl as her hand automatically fed spoonful after spoonful into her waiting mouth, her eyes glued to the morning's issue of the _Daily Prophet_, which had been delivered to her by one of the school owls. Her peace was interrupted when Harry and Ron seated themselves at the table, the latter spraying her in a disgusting combination of toast and jam, as he talked animatedly with his mouth wide open, about the latest Canons game. Hermione rolled her eyes, having next to no interest in Quidditch.

The Gryffindor sensed the presence of the gaggle of girls before she saw them – their giggles and whispers could ironically, be heard from miles away, and she turned to face them with an irritate expression. "What d'you want?"

"How could you not tell us!" Exclaimed on of the Patil sisters – Hermione wasn't really sure which one. She'd never made an especial effort to get to know them, finding their bitchy ways and topics of conversation mundane and without intelligence.

"Tell you what?" She wondered, bemused. Not that she made an effort to share her secrets with her Gryffindor house mates, but still, if she had some ground-breaking news that they would be interested in – surely she herself should know about it?

"Oh I see," announced Lavendar, with wide eyes – gesticulating to Ron in a blatantly obvious manner. Hermione sighed, seriously hoping that the girl had no plans to work for the secret service; for she'd give the game away before she even turned up to work. "It's a _secret,_" she whispered, in stage tones, so the majority of the Gryffindor table could hear.

"Sorry," said Hermione, not really sorry in the slightest, "But what on _earth_are you on about?"

"Your secret relationship with Fred Weasley," Parvati leaned in conspirationally, as if it was a deadly secret.

Hermione very nearly choked on her pumpkin juice as she took a sip of it. "I'm sorry – what?"

"Oh it's alright," simpered Lavendar. "We're not going to tell anyone. Are we girls?" Her tone was threatening, and within an instance, turned into an angelic smile. Her gang shook their heads in much the same way, and Hermione was scared by just how alike they all were, glad that she wasn't part of their friendship group.

"I think you're deeply mistaken," Hermione remarked, now somewhat amused. "The closest relationship I have with anything is my morning paper," she announced snidely, noticing with distaste that Parvati sniffed at the mention of the newspaper, as if it offended her by just existing.

"Fine then," Lavendar's tone turned icy. "Don't admit it. But we're onto you, Hermione," she all but snarled. "I saw Fred and you last night?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "Sorry what?"

"I saw Fred," the girl spat, "Tucking you into bed. Don't deny it – because I saw it with my very own eyes. But if you're not going to 'fess up then looks like we're just going to have to be on our guard and try and catch you out. Come on girls," she announced, "We're leaving."

And with a unanimous sniff, the three girls turned on their heels and left, leaving a bewildered Hermione in their wake.

"What was that all about, Hermione?" harry asked, curious.

Hermione shrugged. "I have _no_ idea, Harry," she admitted, bewildered. A look of horror crossed her face, as she recalled falling asleep in the Gryffindor common room the night before. She hadn't made it back to bed alone – and given Fred had been the only other person awake, he had some questions to answer, Hermione resolved, with a steely glint in her eye.


	3. Confrontational

**Confrontational**

There was no other word to describe the manner in which Hermione made her way down to the school Quidditch pitch other than "stormy." Like Hurricane Katrina, she flew down the grassy banks at an alarming rate, given the fact that her legs weren't all that long, her bushy hair flying out behind her, and her satchel bumping into her side as she made the steep decline.

Fred Weasley was currently blissfully unaware of the impact that was about to hit him; after a successful practice – where his team had won 150 points to 90 – he was currently towelling the sweat off his hair and conversing amicably with his twin about tactics. Quidditch had never been something which Hermione understood – and the fact that she was currently making her way down to the pitch with a very angry expression on her face, was the first sign of trouble.

As Hermione stormed across the grass – for hell hath no fury like a woman scorned – there were whispers, and the onlooker's heads turned as the Gryffindor stalked up to a certain gangly redhead, tapping him on the should at the same time that she yelled, "Frederick Weasley!" In a tone not dissimilar to the one which routinely filled the Great Hall when one of the Weasley twins were on the receiving end of their mother's Howlers.

Fred wheeled around, shocked at the intrusion, but even more so to discover a fuming Hermione Granger stood directly in front of him.

"What on earth do you think you're playing at?" She demanded, pushing a haphazard strand of hair behind her ear as she did so.

"Sorry?" Fred asked, bemused – for Hermione was really quite a sight when she was angry.

"Don't you act innocent with _me, _mister!" Hermione exclaimed, as she prodded the redhead in the chest. Hard, at that.

"Sorry Hermione," Fred chuckled, "But I really have no idea what's got you so wound up."

"What on _earth_were you doing in my bedroom last night?!" She exclaimed, her cheeks tinging pink as her rather loud exclamation prompted catcalls and wolf-whistles from the surrounding onlookers, who had gathered to watch the show down.

Fred put his hands up as if in surrender. "Woah, woah, woah," he ushered, "Calm down. You fell asleep in the Common Room in a really awkward position. I was heading up to bed anyway, and I didn't want you to get a sore neck – you must have enough of that from the weight of all the books that you carry around. I just thought you'd be comfier in your bed, that's all."

Hermione stalled. Perhaps she'd jumped onto Lavendar's words a little too soon – for it did seem like Fred had had nothing but good intentions; and here she was jumping down her throat. She sniffed, "Still, as a prefect, I'm disappointed that you knew how to get into the Girl's dormitories. You should know better, Fred," she admonished, and Fred grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Aww c'mon Hermione," he grinned, "Don't tell me you don't know how to get into the boys."

She sniffed again. "I know nothing of the sort," she lied through her teeth. "It's a matter of principal – boys do not belong in girl's dormitories, plain and simple."

"Well looks like we'll just have to agree to disagree on that one, 'Mione," Fred grinned, and his friends, including Lee Jordan, wolf-whistled. "How come you only just realised I tucked you in last night, anyway?"

There were yet more sniggers, and Hermione flushed, embarrassed, as she realised how silly her accusation really was. "Lavendar seemed to be under the illusion that you and I were a _thing_after seeing you and me together last night. The stupid bint was making assumptions, like always," Hermione muttered, irritated that she'd been caught up in the gossiping Queen's petty scenes.

"She did, eh?" Fred seemed mildly amused by this, slinging his arm around Hermione's shoulder. He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, "Well we can give her something to talk about if you really want to," he grinned, nodding to where Lavendar was stood watching the exchange up in the stands, a fascinated expression on her face.

"I rather not, thanks," Hermione remarked snidely. "I prefer my men less sweaty and smelly, if it's all the same to you."

Fred shrugged good-naturedly, letting his arm drop off Hermione's shoulder. Lavendar's face fell from where she was surveying the proceedings. Hermione struggled to supress a smirk at her look of disappointment, resolving to get Lavendar back for the embarrassment she had caused.

"Suit yourself," Fred grinned. "Just try not to fall asleep in the Common Room again, huh? Maybe then we'd have avoided this entire misunderstanding in the first place," he smiled good naturedly at the Gryffindor bookworm – feeling an overwhelming urge to reach across and ruffle her hair. An urge which he resisted; for he suspected that Hermione would most likely hex him if he tried.

"Thanks," Hermione added, genuinely, "I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions."

Fred shook his head, grinning. "Don't sweat it."


	4. Guilty

**A/N:** I know it's literally taken me forever to update this - don't worry I haven't forgotten it! I've just not had a lot of free time of late, with maths exams coming up etc. and the most of my "free time" *where I usually write* has been consumed with doing Homework. Bit rubbish really, but what can you do. Nonetheless, here's another chapter - and as always I'd love feedback, and to hear what you guys think - Beth :) xx

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**Guilty**

Despite Fred's continuous reassurance that he wasn't fazed by her outburst after Quidditch training, Hermione still felt an innate sense of guilt which continued to bite away at her insides. She resolved that there was only one way to make it up to him – the way to man's heart, after all, is though his stomach. Every single issue of _Witch Weekly _reiterated that.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, careful to ask him when he was in the middle of a game of wizard's chess, and therefore least likely to pay attention to what she was asking, "Can I borrow the invisibility cloak and the marauders map?"

He nodded, and she leapt up to the boy's dormitory, slipping inside and retrieving the illicit items. Over the years she'd become quite good at sneaking about the castle – something she wasn't proud of, of course, but nonetheless it was useful in moments such as these.

The passage to Honeydukes was empty, and slipping into the shop, she selected one of the largest hampers she could find, careful to first check that it had liquorice laces in – for she knew that they were Fred's favourites. Handing over three galleons, she smiled at the shopkeeper, shrinking her purchase so that it would fit into her handbag, as she hurried across the road to Zonko's, eager to get back to the castle. Whilst she was very good at breaking school rules, didn't mean she especially enjoyed it.

"Hello," the cashier smiled at her, a girl a little older than Hermione with straight black hair. "Can I help you with anything?"

"Yeah," she smiled, eager for the help – for joke shops weren't places she tended to frequent, either – "I was wondering if you have anything that is suitable for the advanced Prankster. It's kind of an apology present," she admitted, and the girl smiled.

"We've got just the thing – this package is new in this morning so I can bet your friend doesn't already have it. We usually only sell it to adults, but you seem really sensible, so just tell them to be careful, huh?"

Hermione smiled – already liking this girl more and more. "Shall I ring it up for you?" Hermione nodded, watching impatiently as the gift was wrapped.

"Thanks…" she smiled as she handed over her money, shrinking it in the same way she had the hamper, as she hurried back to Hogwarts, before anyone noticed her disappearance. The feeling of guilt that had been gnawing at her stomach all day was already lessening rapidly. The only question was, how was she going to give it to Fred without ridiculing herself further, or giving interfering bints like Lavendar the wrong idea about the dynamic of their relationship?

She made her way through the throngs of people in the Gryffindor common room, stopping to chat with Neville and Dean. She spotted Fred in the corner, and quickly made her way over to him. AS always, he was surrounded by the ever-present entourage; mainly composed of girls, who gazed longingly at the redhead twins as they amused their peers. Hermione supressed an eye roll, her courage faltering. Giving Fred such a generous gift in front of all these people would surely be social suicide. And she had to go to the boys dormitories anyway, to return Harry's clock and map. At least that's what she told herself.

Fred's bed was easily identifiable by the jumper with an "F" on it that lay on his pillow, and Hermione smiled at his unmade bed. It was just like him to be so untidy – Ron was much the same. She ripped a piece of parchment from her wad, and dipping her quill in some ink, scrawled hurriedly "_I'm really sorry for making such a fuss the other day– this at least eases my guilt. Hope you like it – Hermione x – Ps) Make your bed!"_She returned the gifts to their original sizes, and lay the note on top of them, so there was no way that he would miss it. She smiled, one last look, before hastily exiting the boys dorm before she was discovered.

For the rest of the evening, Hermione couldn't help but sit and watch, waiting for the redheaded twins to go up to bed. But her tiredness got the better of her, and she found her eyes heavy with sleep which she struggled to supress. Not wanting to have to rely on being carried to bed, she bid Harry and Ron goodnight, before making her way up to her own dormitory to get some rest. She couldn't help but think that perhaps the gift was a little over the top – but it was been and done now, and she couldn't very well sneak and take it back. She resigned herself to the comforts of sleep, forgetting about it as darkness flooded her eyes...


	5. Embarrassed

**Embarrassed**

Fred made his way up to bed, early, for his advanced Transfiguration had taken it out of him. Bidding the other boys goodnight, he'd made his way into their dorm, and had been met with a pleasant surprise. He grinned a broad smile, shaking his head at the Gryffindor golden girls' antics. It was just like her to make a mountain out of a molehill; he had forgiven her for crying out loud! She hadn't had to buy him a gift to apologise… yet nonetheless it touched him. Her comment about making his bed made him smile, and was cause for him going to sleep with a smirk plastered to his features. He'd thank her tomorrow – and possibly take the opportunity to tease her a bit too; typical Weasley fashion.

Hermione was absent-mindedly stirring her tea whilst reading a book about alchemy, the rest of the Gryffindor chatting loudly around her. She'd learnt to tune out the voices over the years, existing solely in her own little bubble – which was probably why Fred took three attempts to get her attention. He wafted a slice of toast in front of her face, as he sat across from her, and she looked irritated, assuming it was Seamus or Dean messing around. She smiled as she realised who it was.

"And she's back in the room," Fred grinned. "Thanks for the present by the way – that'll last a whole year! George says what does he have to do to get a similar present?" he chuckled, "I'm refusing to share with him, you see."

"What happened to "what's mine is yours"?" Hermione chuckled, amused.

Fred scoffed, "That went out the window years ago. Greedy bugger. But thank you," he added genuinely, smiling, flashing pearly white teeth as he did so. Hermione's cheeks tinged pink.

"It's the least I can do, you know," she smiled, somewhat embarrassed to have her (with hindsight) disproportionally large sorry gesture picked apart at breakfast – it was too early in the morning for gratitude, she told herself.

"So, Hermione," Fred grinned, mischievous smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "What happened to "It's a matter of principal – boys do not belong in girl's dormitories, plain and simple!" I thought you had no idea how to get into our dorms?" He teased in a scary imitation of her own bossy sing-song voice.

She was now crimson, and flustered, before she spluttered, "Ahh, well you see, I'm a prefect, and erm –"

"Calm down love," Fred grinned, "I'm only pulling your leg."

She looked down at her book, flustered, and Fred reached across the table, taking it into his hands as he tilted her chin up so that she looked him directly in the eyes. "You know there's nothing wrong with breaking one or two rules, you know. It's healthy."

Hermione laughed lightly – Fred and George had _no idea_ how often Hermione made a habit of breaking rules. She, unlike certain redhead Pranksters, simply didn't make a point of informing her peers about her antics. Her trouble seeking side was secret; known only to Harry and Ron and the Hogwarts faculty. "I've broken _plenty_of rules, Frederick Weasley," she smirked.

"Oh yeah?" Fred chuckled, "What like being in the library one minute after curfew?"

She shot him a scathing look.

"Try fighting a mountain troll first year," she smiled sweetly, as she swept her books into her back and swept off, feeling rather pleased with herself.

Momentarily shell shocked at her admission, it took a few minutes to register with the redhead. "Wait Hermione," Fred called after her, almost shouting so that the entirety of the Great Hall could hear, "I'm still confused… how _do_ you know how to get into the boys' dormitories?" He seemed confused. "What on earth meant you needed to know that?"

She ignored him, feeling the weight of peoples' stares on her back, and hurried to the library, embarrassed. Perhaps shouting out in front of the assembled student body wasn't one of the smartest things Fred Weasley had ever done, he shook his head to himself, before making up his mind to follow her.

He found her between stacks of her books, head buried in a thick tome.

"How come you needed to get into the boys dormitories?" Fred repeated, bemused. He'd get this out of her even if it was the last thing he did. She pointedly ignored him, continuing to read. He raised his voice, earning him a withering look from Madame Pince.

"Come on Hermione," he ushered, "I won't tell anyone, pleeease?"

She looked up, scathingly. "Oh yeah? Well next time shout a little louder why don't you – I'm not quite sure Hagrid heard down at his hut." Her eyes returned to her book.

"Don't be like that!" Fred exclaimed, and Madame Pince briskly hurried over.

"What is the meaning of this?" She asked sharply, gesturing between Hermione and Fred, "If you are to have a lover's spat then please do not do it here – both of you, get out!" She shooed Hermione and Fred towards the exit – and Hermione hung her head humiliated to have been kicked out of her favourite haunt, and have to have been presumed to be dating Fred. She shuddered at the sheer idea of dating the trouble maker. They'd be a haphazard couple if there ever was one.

Fred burst out laughing as soon as they were outside. "She think we're dating, Merlin that's genius," he chuckled, and Hermione scowled. "Come on 'Mione, admit, that was funny."

"No it wasn't," she snarled, "It was embarrassing. Now will you please quit stalking me, I have reading to be doing."

She swanned off, and Fred watched her go with a small smile on his lips; she really was quite vivacious – and his curiosity was still piqued with regard to her activities in the boy's dormitories.

Remembering a small vial of colourless, odourless liquid he had stashed in his drunk, his mind began to formulate a plan – surely slipping her a drop or two wouldn't do her any harm? He licked his lips, for the fun was about to begin…

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**A/N:** So what's gonna happen next, huh? Please review and let me know what you think - Beth :) xx


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